“No.” He props his hands on his hips and shakes his head. “It has nothing to do with your drive. I justfeel betterwith you here.”
I bite my lip, watching him.
“Why does that make you mad?”
With a humorless laugh, he faces me and steps forward, nudging his way between my knees, and tingles spread all over my body. His hands drift up my bare, goose-bump-covered thighs to my hips and stop there, just holding me in place, and that’s our only point of physical contact.
But his dark eyes are on fire.
“Are you okay?” My voice is a whisper.
“Yeah. I’m okay, Wills.”
I swallow hard and offer him the carton of ice cream. “Do you want another taste?”
His eyes fall to my lips.
“Yeah, I fucking do.”
I offer him the spoon, but he takes the melting ice cream out of my hands and sets it on the counter.
“That’s not what I want.”
His hands lift to my face, and his lips cover mine in the gentlest of kisses. I plant my hands on his bare sides, making little circles with my thumbs and reveling in how smooth and warm his skin is as he deepens our kiss with a moan in the back of his throat. “You taste so damn good.”
He changes the angle and covers my mouth once more, licks the seam of my lips, and I open for him. His tongue tangles with mine as my hands skim up his back and down his shoulders.
I want to touch himeverywhere.
I wanthimto touch me everywhere.
His magical hands drift down to my breasts. His thumbs brush over my nipples, through my thin shirt, and I arch into his touch as electricity zings down my spine, making me gasp. I can feel his hardness pressing against my center through his sweatpants, andholy shit. There’s a reason why this man gives off big-dick energy. He grinds into me, rubbing against that sweet bundle of nerves that want nothing more than for him to make me come.
God, I need him to make me come.
“Ry.” Is thatmyvoice? So raspy and full of need.
But suddenly, he pulls his lips away and rests his forehead against mine as his body stills, breathing hard, his eyes closed.
“Ry?”
Finally, he licks his lips and pulls away, leaving me feeling cold without his touch.
“Go to bed, Wills.”
I frown as I cross my arms over my chest, feeling rejected and ridiculous. I want to question him, ask him what in the hell is going on in his head, but before I can, he opens his eyes and pins me in his tortured gaze.
“I need you to go to bed, Willow.” He licks his lips slowly, as if he can still taste me there. “Please.”
It’s thepleasethat does it. I hop down and walk away from him. When I get to the doorway, I look back and find him with his head hanging down, his hands on his hips.
He looks . . . forlorn.
And I want to comfort him.
But he rejected me.
Now I know where I stand with him. He doesn’t want me, or won’t let himself want me, and I need to get over this stupid lust-crazed crush I have on him because he’s too important to me for me to screw it all up.
